The Guilt of a Mother
by NefariaBlack
Summary: Years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Molly reaches out for an orphan of war AU Delphini is not raised by the Rowles
1. chapter 1

**_Author's Notes: This time a tiny one-shot that stands completely on its own. Christmas came early ;)_**

 ** _This is a side-piece to Birds become Dragons, however._**

 ** _If you are not reading it, just know that this is an AU where the Malfoys, and not the Rowles, are raising Delphini._**

 ** _If you are reading BbD, thank you once more, and know that this follows Ch28._**

 ** _Please be so kind to drop me a review._**

 **The Guilt of a Mother**

 _December 2005_

Molly has decided to have yet another sweater added to her list of knitting-to-do. It keeps growing and growing and she now has to charm two sets of needles to work simultaneously.

This one is not for family. Not of blood and neither of heart. This one is made to quell her guilt.

Because she knows she was right that day, but can't help to feel for the girl she left without a Mother.

Bellatrix Black was not someone to be taken pity on. She had been a terrible, wretched, cruel creature of Darkness. She was vicious even at school, where she had met the pride of Cygnus Black, just a year bellow hers. She remembers her sorting, the Hat humming like he had found an old acquaintance. _"The first Black of this generation then, Miss. Very interesting." Bellatrix had raised her eyebrows and slightly pouted, bored to the core, obviously. "Well, Slytherin of course, Miss Black."_

But this Delphini Lestrange is not even a year older than Teddy, their beloved blue haired little wizard with a love for pranks. And she deprived her of her mother. So she is knitting another sweater, with a yellow D against a deep green. She figures that is the only way the Malfoys will allow the girl anywhere near her gift.

When her ever expanding family assembles for Christmas, some weeks later, she asks Harry if he can send something over, assuming his owl will be a bit more welcomed at the Malfoys than her poor old one. Harry's face comes alight with a smile at the mention of it. Yes, he is sending his own sturdy owl, a gift from Hermione and Ron, over to the Malfoys. And yes, her fluffy pack is very welcomed to join his gifts to the Malfoy children.

Molly can breathe a bit better at that. Her aching heart of a mother beats steadier for it. It's her apology. For even if she has lost brothers and a son to war; for even if she only killed the girl's mother because her own daughter was in danger; she knows the wounds left behind by missing loved ones, and her motherly heart cannot help but wish to mend them.

Even in a child that is not her own blood or heart.

Even if the girl's mother still lives in her nightmares.

When she receives a little note back, she knows she did the right thing. In a bit of parchment that she takes from a raven's foot, in neat handwriting, is all she needs.

"Warm and cosy. Thank you,

Delphini"

And so, every year from then on, she knits a green sweater with a proud D, eventually changing it to fit Hogwarts' colours.

And every year, on the day after Christmas, there's a little tap at the kitchen window, and a raven with a note.


	2. Chapter 2

**_So this one shot side piece has gained a chapter. I'm actually planning on turning this into a three shot, the third chapter being well into my fic and not to be expected for a while yet._**

 ** _This bit follows Ch39 of Birds become Dragons and overlaps with happenings of Ch40 (not yet published)  
_**

 ** _In the meantime, enjoy and please let me know what you think._**

* * *

 **The Guilt of a Mother  
**

 _December 2010_

This year there was no tap on the window the day after Christmas.

No raven waiting for its due thank you in treat shape.

No little piece of parchment with neat handwriting in it.

Just an owl with one of the packages she sent. And a letter.

 _"Mrs. Weasley_

 _I'm very sorry to be writing this to you. Scorpius loved his mittens but Delphini refuses to open your present. My in-laws weren't sure about what to do with it, but everyone seems to agree that having it about the house will only make things worse for her._ _We couldn't just Vanish your gift._

 _Please accept my apologies. Do not take this as a severing of relations. This isn't definitive, I know, but Delphini needs time for now._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Astoria Malfoy"_

So she knows. Delphini knows what she has done, what she is guilty of, of what she has deprived a little girl of.

Molly's heart is sinking under churning seas of remorse, bathed in a rain of her sour tears.

Oh she would never take it back. How could she? Her Ginny was in danger that day and her Fred was gone already. It was all the reason she needed to lunge forward. But she would never take it back and that is what eats away at her.

Because she can't look that child in the eye and say that she is sorry. For she is but she isn't. She is sorry that she killed her Mother, but she can never be truly sorry for saving her own daughter. That isn't even the worst of it. Deep down, forced into a little corner of her mind, is a little buggering thought. She is sorry that she killed her Mother, but she can't shake the feeling that she may have given Delphini a better life that way. At the notion that a child's life could be better without a mother is too much for her to bear.

She will never be able to tell her that she is sorry. Because she is but she isn't. And she doesn't know what to do now.

How could she think that it would be alright? That warm and fuzzy wool sweaters would be enough to fix it? How are those enough of a price? She has woven all her apologies, all her guilt, and all her sorrow into the green and silver threads. But she has never met Delphini. Harry tells her about the bright eyed girl, the brilliant student, the troublemaker-in-chief, but it's not the same.

What is she supposed to do now? Write? Visit? Will Delphini even acknowledge her presence in the room? Will she even be allowed past the doors of Malfoy Manor?

"Mum?" Her most broken child comes looking for her. She quickly tries to make herself presentable, but there is no hiding from George. He knows grief when he sees it. His life may be coming together and he has found happiness, but there is a piece of him missing. And he can always tell when others have missing pieces too. There's a shadow in their eyes, he says, like a ghost that lingers in a corner.

"What happened?" is all he asks, as he takes a seat next to her, this living ghost of her sons.

"Just let her. She will come to you when she is ready" is all he says when she is finished explaining.

"And if she never comes?"

"She will. There's yet to be born a child that wouldn't be drawn to you. There's yet to be born a child you could not love too."

Molly caresses the cheek of her lost boy, caressing both of them at the same time. He gets up, holding her hand tight in his, a half-smile on his face, then walks away.

She stays, eyes lost on years of stains and scratches on the wooden floor. She knows that all there is for her to do is to wait.

Until that day, she will try and figure an explanation, some sort of justification to give to the motherless girl. Maybe she can make her understand. She can only hope the girl will be willing to listen to her. She can only hope she isn't as keen on vengeance as Bellatrix was.

Then one day, when summer days are long, there is a familiar tap at the kitchen window and a note in neat handwriting around a raven's foot.

The message is not what she hoped for, but neither is it what she feared. Her heartbeat runs anyway.


End file.
